The Last of Red Squad
by the stargate time traveller
Summary: After 'Valiant' Dorian Collins, the last member of the elite group of cadets, reflects on the Squad, and the regrets she has for joining.


**I don't own Star Trek Deep Space Nine, or its contempories. But I do own this oneshot. Hope you enjoy it.**

The sickbay was quiet - little bit wrong of course, she could feel the thrum of the powerful engines of the Defiant as it travelled through space - but there were no human voices in the room with her, no one was talking. There was a nurse, but she hadn't disturbed her. She was too busy tending to other duties though she had occasionally asked Dorian if she needed anything, and Dr. Bashir was quietly leaving her to recover. Dorian was grateful for that, grateful for everyone giving her some peace and quiet; at first she'd worried they were giving her the silent treatment for what she'd said to Jake and Nog, now she simply didn't care now she'd had the chance to properly getting some rest.

She'd used some of that time to reflect on her life's choices that had led up to the mess she was in. Ever since she'd been a little kid, all Dorian Collins, former acting chief petty officer of the starship Valiant, now probably called cadet seeing her ship and crew were now cinders and ashes floating in space irradiated by theta radiation, had had were the stars, hardly surprising for a 'lunar schooner.' But she had wanted more. She had wanted to see gaseous anomalies, spatial rifts, maybe even the Bajoran wormhole. That was one of the reasons she'd joined Starfleet.

No. That wasn't the reason, Dorian corrected herself. It was the propaganda of Starfleet which had drawn her to the damn organisation, and that fucked up Academy. There were dozens of organisations dedicated to exploring space and adding to the Federations knowledge of the Universe, but Dorian had been sucked in into believing Starfleet was the only one. Despite people's beliefs of the types of conflict Starfleet got itself in, and the general militaristic feeling when you looked at Starfleet, it had contributed a great deal to science; Jonathan Archer's first year as commander of the NX-01 alone had gathered tons of information that had opened the doors to new sciences, by the time the 22nd century had ended the Federation had been formed, and every founding race's scientific knowledge had only added new contributions.

Dorian had become convinced Starfleet was the organisation that would welcome her to make new contributions to Federation science, and like so many others she'd ventured into the examination halls and passed her tests, then she was accepted into the academy. But what she found would change her perception of the place, though she wouldn't recognise it at the time, and she would devote all her time into joining Red Squad.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, ignoring of course the issue of getting extra work, to be considered and seen as one of the best of the best, the creme de la creme of the academy, but what had attracted her was the prospect of making friends. But cream clogged the arteries. Now she'd had time to think to herself after having Nog quietly shove the truth into her mind, and with having one of the last Red Squad ensigns that had actually been pinned to a uniform gently placed into her palm, Dorian could now actually see why she had wanted to join Red Squad so badly. It hadn't been to be seen as immortal. It was because she wanted to be noticed, seen for what she had to offer whereas the other Red Squad cadets were either self obsessed nutcases like Watters, or frigid automatons like Farris, or arrogant jackass sycophants like Shepherd.

Actually, now she came to think of it in the relative quiet of sickbay and hearing the thrum of Valiant's sister ship - she'd spent the best part of her life, which had felt more like a millennium than eight brief months onboard a ship like this that at first she'd thought in her delirium she'd thought she'd gone back in time or something and was trapped on Valiant from before the suicidal move Watters had dreamt up - nearly everyone in Red Squad had been arrogant. She had never really wanted to join up, it hadn't been on the top of the list of priorities she'd set herself when she'd applied to join Starfleet.

And she had seen it, she'd just been too busy trying to fit in even though she was completely different from them. Yeah, Dorian's grades in some subjects were better than others though they weren't enough to be considered top rate scores which was what those who wanted to actually serve with Red Squad had and what those who selected the cadets for joining were looking for, and she had forced herself time after time to hide her unhappiness at living at the academy and being under its rigid discipline to work through all that, and then she'd been invited to join Red Squad. When Dorian had signed up for the entrance exam which would get her in, she had been so busy studying for the fucking thing she hadn't bothered really trying to imagine what it would be like, if she had then she would've been aware that Starfleet simply wasn't what she wanted.

She wanted to explore space, and while she knew from her studies a sense of discipline was needed, she didn't want nor need the type of discipline Starfleet offered, unfortunately she hadn't seen it because of her need to make the best of things. At first she'd been too surprised and over the moon by the offer - Tycho City pun very much intended - that she'd forgotten until she'd moved in with Red Squad what her general impressions of the bunch were. Unlike other cadets, Nog included, and yes she did remember him, it was kind of hard not to miss a Ferengi, the only Ferengi, in Starfleet, she had never been enamoured with Red Squad unlike Nog, who had been desperate to fit in with the academy. At first she had wanted to join because she had wanted to make her mark on the academy and prove her chosen specialities weren't the soft courses everybody else thought, but truthfully she had quickly grown to dislike their holier than thou godlike attitudes the more she hung around them, and the way they treated her after she'd joined had not made it easier for her. At the time she had tried so hard to be better that she overworked herself, and when Dorian was unhappy or depressed, she would put on weight.

Sitting in the sickbay surgical bed in the present day as she let her mind wander backwards in time, Dorian grimaced when she recalled that day when Karen Farris bullied her about her weight and her daily intake, and that if she wanted to stay in Red Squad she would have to lose a few pounds. Arrogant bitch. Back then she'd meekly gone ahead with it because she had wanted to stay, she had wanted something to shine on her academic record, she had wanted captains on ships to say "This girl was in Red Squad, she must be good." Or something along those lines, at least. She hadn't lost a few pounds to impress Farris. She also hadn't bothered telling anyone what she'd said to her; what would have been the point? Karen Farris was seen as a top student, she was seen as lower on the food chain. It wasn't until later she'd read up on the Academy Codex, and found that discrimination was strictly forbidden, but by then it was too late. She'd lost a lot of weight by that time and Karen wouldn't admit to bullying a fellow cadet, and besides it would've been childish, and was trying to steadily earn some kind of respect from the others. It hadn't really worked out the way she'd hoped, of course; by the time Jake and Nog had both boarded the Valiant after their Runabout was being shot to bits by a Jem'Hadar fighter, Dorian had managed to earn a few nods and a few thanks from the others, that was better than nothing. So much for eight months. Dorian wished she could purge her brain of those eight months of being confined in a ship whose engines were malfunctioning, and had all the comfort of a submarine, all those combat drills and those times where they were in combat.

Dorian felt better for the experience - combat training and expertise was a must for Starfleet officers, but after eight months without help or protection and having to rely on only yourself and a small group of people, Dorian felt like she had achieved something. At times she'd enjoyed being in Red Squad, and she had done what she normally did - keep her head down and see if she could ignore it so something better would come out of it. The special training and the special courses the group had gone on might have been fantasised about by the other cadets, but for Dorian it was purgatory since she had barely enough time to finish her other assignments, and the teachers were under the impression that because she was a member of the Squad, she should be top of everything just like them. By then a tiny part of her which had grown steadily bigger, telling her to leave, just grew louder.

It was impossible for Dorian to think about Red Squad and not think about that mess with the threat of Dominion invasion, but at the time everyone was either excited or scared by the prospect, and by the time she and everyone else in the Squad were onboard Valiant the threat had been called off as if by magic. But Dorian still remembered the arguments between Watters, who was a devout fanatic to Admiral Leyton, and Shepherd hadn't been any different, and other cadets who were thrown out simply because they had refused to follow Leyton's plans to shut down Earth's power grid. Yeah, it had been exciting, but Dorian had simply noted it down as something really wrong with Starfleet and Red Squad on the whole, and she had only dwelled on the matter a few times since. She knew Leyton had wanted to seize power from the president under the mistaken belief he was doing it to protect Earth and the Federation, she understood that, she just felt he was doing it the wrong way. How could a takeover prevent shapeshifters from assuming people's forms? Would the Dominion really care about a change in power, or would they simply shrug and attack anyway? Maybe a more militaristic outlook would've made a bit of a difference (she would not think about the communications Valiant had picked up over eight months of hell since the war began), but maybe it would've simply made takeover of the Alpha Quadrant more realistic.

Dorian shook her head at the memory of Watters and a few others kicking up all kinds of hell when they'd heard the news about Leyton's quiet court martial; Starfleet had left them alone, whether it was because Red Squad's involvement was seen as minimal compared to the bigger fish, or whether it was because they couldn't imagine mere cadets being involved, Dorian didn't know and didn't really care. If it came up at the enquiry into the happenings on the Valiant, then she would talk about it. If one thing had excited her more, it had been serving on Valiant, gaining hard experience from learning how to use this amazing new class of starship.

That more than anything had been worth it - until one of the regular officers had quietly taken her to the mess hall, and asked her point blank "Do you really want to serve in Starfleet?"

Dorian had blustered at first, surprised a regular officer had managed to peer at her and just know, claiming that of course she wanted to serve in Starfleet, but the regular officer, one Lieutenant Katie Porter, an experienced officer who had no real intention or desire to move through the ranks any higher, had not believed her, and once Katie had gotten through to her after a few minutes she had admitted the truth that she had known but had tried to hide.

No, she wasn't happy in Starfleet. Unlike the others Katie had been patient and understanding, she hadn't tried to talk her out of thinking of resignation, she hadn't tried to talk her into staying, that Starfleet would miss her as Dorian had expected. Instead Katie had asked her why she felt like this, and Dorian had told her she was the victim of peer pressure, and that she felt that too many of Red Squad were jerks. Katie had advised her to leave as soon as Valiant returned to Earth. Dorian closed her eyes as she remembered the brutal Cardassian attack that had killed all of the regular officers when the war started, Katie included. Katie, who had been such a good friend, just murdered; it was one thing knowing and expecting a war, a prospect which was scary since the Federation had been in peace for years, but Dorian had hoped it wouldn't begin until Valiant was safely back home.

She still remembered how Captain Ramirez had been so badly injured, yet had managed to coordinate the repair effort so then they could destroy the Cardassian cruiser before he finally collapsed and died, but not before giving Watters a battlefield promotion; sometimes Dorian wondered if Ramirez had even been aware of what he was doing, and what Watters would do, she did hold out some hope Ramirez had promoted Watters out of some deep seeded belief the 22 year old would do the responsible thing with the promotion, and get them back to the Federation without any more needless deaths. If not then she would be disappointed.

Personal thoughts and feelings aside, Dorian had to admit Watters did know his stuff. Unlike her, he knew he wanted to be a Starfleet captain, and he had the training and the charisma to go through it. Dorian was sure that, given a few years if fate's plans had been different, some more experience as a regular officer, Watters could've gone on to becoming a damn good captain, but even as a cadet he showed how good he was in the manner in which he dealt with his crew. Dorian remembered him promote every member of Red Squad, and giving them postings, and for a long time with him in command Valiant had run like clockwork as he followed the mission given to Ramirez, to track down and study the new Dominion battleship.

Now she was thinking to herself quietly, Dorian had to admit the battleship mission was a bit coincidental since Starfleet would never have given an assignment like that to captain managing a bunch of cadets, and if they had been given such a mission then Ramirez would've arranged to have them taken back home for their own safety whilst he left with a crew of professionals, but he hadn't. Instead he'd tried to get them back out of Cardassian space before the ambush which had led to so many deaths, but there had been no suggestion they were suddenly on a secret mission, and despite her personal view of Starfleet, Dorian doubted they'd be so stupid to send cadets after a battleship 3 times more larger and more powerful than a Galaxy class ship. Dorian remembered the aggravation Watters and Farris had heaped on the engineering crew to get the ship to go much faster so they could get closer to the ship, but they hadn't managed to iron out the trouble. Nog had told her earlier that Watters had been a bad captain, but then she knew that already.

It hadn't been loyalty she'd felt when she'd told the Ferengi and Jake her former squad member had been a great man, that they had failed because they'd let him down. No. It was acute survivors' guilt, and now she'd had time to properly think about the last eight months Dorian felt differently about Watters. She and everyone else had seen for themselves the long hours he'd put into the Valiant, how he'd given Farris a lot to cope with, but even that frigid bitch had found the time to properly sleep.

But Watters...

Whenever you went on the bridge, he was usually always there, sitting in the command chair. Alert, poised for anything. But if you looked closer, you could see for yourself the fatigue in his eyes, the way he rubbed his face tiredly. At first Watters had eaten and drunk high energy foods to get him through, foods Dorian with her medical knowledge, basic as it was, had recommended. Apparently Watters had read somewhere in the historical database that Starfleet doctors prescribed drugs and stimulants to their crews, and became inspired by it. Hadn't he bothered reading that those doctors had only prescribed them as brief pick-me-ups? No. They weren't meant to be ingested over long periods.

But she hadn't intended for him to eat and be awake for too long, and she'd told him to find time for sleep. He'd ignored her advice. She should have seen what she was creating, but she hadn't because she'd been too busy helping the others and with her other duties. It hadn't been until Farris had come to her, demanding stimulants that she realised what was happening, and that Watters was involved.

Karen Farris was one of those people whom Dorian had never had had a problem with disliking, she was like Admiral Nechayev's daughter; both blond, cold, professional, but Karen was more green than the admiral, but they were cut from the same cloth, it seemed. When Dorian had tried to refuse on the grounds that Watters was already pushing himself beyond human tolerance, Karen bullied her into giving the stimulants. Dorian relented, and gave her the most mild stimulants she could prescribe; Farris may have been given some basic first aid training like other Starfleet officers, but she was no expert, and Dorian wasn't going to prescribe stronger stimulants unless absolutely necessary, and she couldn't see the point anyway.

As the months passed and the stress and tension rose on the Valiant, Watters started demanding more and more high strength stimulants just to stay upright, and Dorian gave up trying to stop him when his tactics changed from polite, calm and rational, then he became threatening. But when she found out he was taking cordafin stimulants, Dorian had really raised a racket, only to be severely punished by Farris.

Surprisingly Watters had been mild in how he dealt with her on that occasion, a far cry from before, leaving all the anger to Farris before he played good cop to her bad cop. He hushed it all up, and Farris humiliated her quietly over two months, so she quietly handed over the drugs, and continued to watch Watter's spiral into god knew what. Just the thought of her giving him that cocktail of drugs was enough to make her sick, but what made her even sicker was hearing from Jake when she'd healed his hand injury was the Runabout they'd been on had been, to the Valiant, only a few weeks away.

Dorian's heart chilled. They could have returned home whenever, given up the mission Starfleet had given to Ramirez, if it even existed, and returned home. It had registered at the time, and she hadn't hidden her thoughts from Jake, and it still never failed to scare her about what Watters had done. The implications of that train of thought...were horrible, but understandable. Watters had been loving the role of being captain, if he went home he'd be a mere cadet again. He wanted to take so much from life so quickly before he had a chance to live. Dorian knew the stories of cordafin, knew that overdoses were often fatal, and even minute amounts had the potential to do a lot of harm. They were seen as an injection of last resort by doctors, not as a medicine to be taken regularly by a 22 year old who didn't seem to understand the basic human need to sleep. She wondered how Julian Bashir would feel if he knew what she'd done, what other doctors would think, and it made her almost cry.

She remembered the time on the Valiant where she had cried. It hadn't been her plan to talk about Tycho City and the lunar walks she and her father had taken, but the subject had just drifted down that route when she and Jake had spoken to each other. She had been alone with the rest of Red Squad for so long, she'd jumped at the chance to speak to someone different, and Jake wasn't like the others. He was a breath of fresh air, and although she regretted getting him into trouble with Farris and Watters, she had no regrets about remembering home. She'd made it clear to Jake afterwards that just because Watters had told them to stay away from each other that didn't mean they had to honor it, and besides his speech about the hopeless futility of destroying the battleship made sense; she might have said nothing because she'd seen no point, and besides she'd done it to keep her head down, knowing from long experience it would be ignored anyway.

That was when she'd revealed what Watters had been doing with stimulants, particularly the cordafin stimulants. Her depression just grew worse and worse as she remembered how Watters, under the thrall of the cocktail of what he was taking, had ordered continuous attacks on Jem'Hadar ships with next to no plan whatsoever. Even the attack on the battleship itself had been more than a little half thought through, but the thought of all that effort to get a probe close enough to scan the monster, now wasted made her ashamed. Dorian's shame went deeper as she replayed Watters' speech in the Valiant mess hall about the threat the ship posed against Federation colonies and starships, and realised that because they had lost all that data gleaned, those same colonies would be at risk. She looked up at the ceiling, imagining Captain Benjamin Sisko, one of the most famous officers in Starfleet, and wondered would he have done what Watters attempted.

The answer came quickly. No. Jake was right there.

No, Sisko would've taken the knowledge back to Starfleet, or at least if he had planned to destroy it then he'd have come up with a better strategy if he'd had no other choice. That data... she closed her eyes as she yearned to kick someone, preferably Farris or Watters.

Why couldn't they simply turn and head back, give the data to Starfleet so engineers and scientists with better facilities than the crappy ones on the Valiant? Why did they have to play hero?

Dorian didn't know if it was the drug intake, or just Watters's megalomanic personality which had driven the attack, she may never know, but it was probably a combination of both. Her mind drifted, and she found herself thinking about the other members of the Squad. She'd never really gotten along with many of them; Farris was an arrogant bitch, Shepherd was just as arrogant as his leader, but he was also completely without remorse. She remembered him and some of the others joking and laughing about what they'd done with the power grid. But there were others, and no matter what she'd never managed to fit in despite her earlier efforts. She wondered if they were regretful, now they'd gone on into a better place. Had Watters finally seen the poor decisions he'd made? Had the others realised just how fanatical they'd become?

She sighed wearily and closed her eyes as she tried to forget the feeling as her head had smashed into an exploded panel on the bridge during the battle, the sight of Watters being killed, the consoles Farris and Shepherd were seated at exploding as the battleship relentlessly pounded Valiant to pieces with photons. She knew it was not over for her yet. Starfleet wasn't going to keep quiet about this, they were going to demand answers, and she was going to have to give witness statements, testify about what had happened over the last eight months, maybe even drag up that mess with Leyton, everything. Just the thought of it made her ill, but not because she was afraid of admitting the truth; she was too full of guilt at her own inactions for that.

No, she just didn't want to have to talk about it and remember something she had struggled to forget. Dorian knew she was guilty of a lot of things; giving a 22 year old enough drugs to upset his brain, letting a whole bunch of kids her age walk over her until she was a fucking doormat, sabotaging the global power grid of Earth, lied and helped in a conspiracy to overthrow the legal government of the United Federation of Planets. She had no way of knowing what the end judgement would be, but she knew one thing; if she was kicked out of Starfleet, she'd be happy, and if not then she would still resign because she didn't feel she could stay in uniform, no matter what anyone thought. It didn't take long for her to think about Nog.

He was hardly innocent anymore than she was; he was a commissioned officer, he had had the authority to take command from Watters, and the rest of Red Squad would've obeyed instantly; they may have been taken in by Watter's charisma, but they were still Starfleet, and if another captain had been with Nog and Jake, they would've only needed to learn the story in the minutes about what had happened before taking command. Nog hadn't done that. Instead the Ferengi had repaired Valiant's engines, aided and abetted their mad plan, and the only time he'd actually used his authority was when the bridge was on fire and a wreck to order the crew to abandon ship! She knew he was going to be raked over the coals for that. Dorian could barely remember the long hours spent in the escape pod, she didn't want to. She remembered feeling delirious, almost hungover like she'd drunk a whole barrel of Klingon bloodwine and downed it all with a case of Romulan ale as she'd climbed into that damn pod with Nog and Jake, seeing through misty eyes through the wreathes of flame as Valiant's remaining atmosphere combusted with each torpedo blast the destroyed escape pods. She was the last of the original Red Squad, and Dorian Collins had no idea what was going to happen to her now.


End file.
